


Take Me With You

by illyriantremors



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Chapter 55 Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Mini Fic, Rhys POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: Just a quick look at how Rhys processed his time with Feyre while she sleeps after they've mated in that glorious cabin of theirs. Lots of fluff and feels.





	

Rhysand wakes up first. Then again, he never quite fell asleep. _Not really_.

They were lucky to fall asleep at all. Back and forth they passed the night, two stars blurring and burning their way across the sheets while the clock ticked down on their return to camp.

The queens were waiting.

He needs to get up. His mind tells him it’s nearly time to go. But his body doesn’t want to. His body screams at him to stay with Feyre wrapped between his arms, his wings cocooning them together in their nest.

_Mates_.

The word had been what really kept him awake for the pitiful hour Feyre slept. He didn’t want to miss one single moment of her. Any second he might blink and find Amarantha looking back at him, the illusion shattered.

So he focused on her hair, sticking with sweat or water from their bath together, he couldn’t tell which.

He focused on her freckles, traced constellations between them until their story was written across her skin, penned by his fingertips. She had four extra stars on her left cheek than the right.

He focused on the way her head leaned at an angle so it could rest against his bicep as she slept. He brushed the hair away from her neck just to see the stretch of her muscles more times than he could count.

He focused on her ears, now pointed and fae and exactly like his own. The same ears he’d seen when he’d given her his spark and watched her wake up. The ones that told him she was a part of him now.

He focused on her breathing, the subtle way her breasts rose and fell with each little breath sending curls of air onto his chest. He could have warmed the world with that breath.

He focused on the way she held him tight, never imagining such a thing as letting go existed. Her arm wrapped around his waist hanging in the void between his back and wings. Every now and then if he breathed _just right_ and pushed his wing _just so_ , her fingertips would skim the membrane unaware and he would bite his lip to keep from shuddering lest he wake her up.

He focused on the way her legs knotted with his right down to the tips of her toes. They were so cold! He fidgeted going back and forth from foot to foot wrapping them in his own until he’d warmed them up, taken all of her cold and absorbed it.

He focused on the heat where their stomachs connected, the skin smooth and whole not because the scars of battles and victories lost were gone, but because they _fit_. They matched. They merged.

He focused on the scent of her. _His scent_. His mate. There was pine from when she had hunted, grass from the days of Spring, wild spices from Velaris, and when he inhaled deeply at the crook of her neck, he found the hint of himself hiding in the citrus and jasmine rolling off of her. And he decided he wanted it all - every scent that spilled her blood upon the pages of history and sung the story of who this woman had become.

But most of all, he focused on the calm peace of her face. There would be no nightmares tonight. No waking up and running blindly for the bathroom. No need to hold her hair back or kiss away the tears. Tonight Feyre was free of everything and everyone save herself. She had everything she needed right there in front her and she dressed herself decadently in it, content never to move from this spot. Never to let go again.

To never move from her mate.

_Take me with you_ , Rhys weeps down the bond. To her past. To her present. To her future. _Take me with you_.

The bond stirs - no longer just a feeble bargain disguised in tattoos and monthly visits. The mate bond is alive between them, reborn out of ashes and flying wild through the skies, a phoenix taking flight for the first time with every feather, bone, and muscle in its proper place and Rhysand felt like he could soar to the highest peaks because of it.

Eyelashes fluttering. Heart beating. Fingers nimbly searching. A catch of his scent. A brush of his touch.

And Feyre woke to her mate.

xx


End file.
